#they could’ve done something like they did

[ikeupied]

15:24. I was running late to practice, all because Gowon had insisted on coming with me.

"Won, are you almost done? It's getting late." I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"Almost, sorry." Gowon replied in her usual soft voice. Any other time, it would’ve been enough to calm me down, but today, it only made me more frustrated.

"Do you really need to come with me? I don’t get what you have to do at practice—it’s a duet between Y/N and me." I tried to keep my tone steady, but there was a hint of irritation I couldn’t hold back.

"I just want to keep you company, Ki."

I leaned my head against the wall, shutting my eyes.

A few minutes later, Gowon finally stepped out of the bathroom. "I'm ready. Let's go."

She flashed me a smile, but I couldn't bring myself to return it. Instead, I just turned toward the door, and we left.

On the way, Gowon wanted to stop and buy an iced coffee. I rolled my eyes in frustration and told her to do whatever she wanted, but I had to get to practice now.

So, she stopped to get her drink while I just kept walking.

If I wanted things between Y/N and me to be at least somewhat okay, this was definitely ruining it.

I walked as fast as I could. Luckily, the dance studio wasn’t that far.

15:45.

I stopped at the door, reaching for the handle when I heard a familiar song.

I stepped in quietly, and there she was—Y/N, dancing to Easy.

My choreography.

The one she had insisted I teach her because—according to her—it was too amazing and she had to dance it with me.

She was doing it a thousand times better than I ever could.

I stood there, unable to move, my entire attention locked on her.

Until she looked toward the mirror—and saw me standing there, watching her.

Immediately, I averted my gaze and rushed to the locker room to drop off my things.

"Sorry for being so late," I tried to keep my tone casual.

"It’s fine. Doesn’t matter."

I looked at her, but she avoided my eyes at all costs. A small pressure built in my chest.

And then, the door opened.

Gowon.

I was still in a daze, still watching Y/N, so I didn’t even notice someone else had walked in—until I saw the way Y/N's expression dropped.

Her jaw tensed slightly. It was subtle, but I noticed.

Gowon cleared her throat, finally drawing my attention. "Sorry for the delay," she said, her voice too polite to sound natural.

Practice ended earlier than expected. Or maybe it just felt shorter because my mind wasn’t entirely there.

Y/N started packing up her things while I stayed behind, practicing parts of the choreography I still needed to perfect.

I was about to say something—anything—when Gowon walked up to me, her now-empty iced coffee in hand.

"Are we leaving?" Her tone was light.

I could feel Y/N's gaze on us through the mirror.

But when I turned to look at her, she had already turned away, zipping up her backpack with more force than necessary.

Something inside me felt off.

"Go ahead, I need to finish up here," I replied without looking at her.

Gowon glanced at Y/N, then back at me. I met her gaze and instantly understood—she was jealous.

But she left without saying anything.

Now, it was just Y/N and me.

"Do you want to go over anything before we wrap up?" I asked before she could leave.

She hesitated for a second but then shook her head. "No need. We have another practice this weekend anyway."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "You sure?"

"Yeah." This time, her voice was firmer.

I didn’t want the conversation to end like this, but I had no idea what else to say.

Until—just as she was about to walk out—I found myself speaking without thinking.

"You’re better at it than I am."

Y/N froze.

She didn’t look at me right away, but her grip tightened around her backpack strap.

"What?"

"Easy." I scratched the back of my neck. "You dance it better than I do."

"That’s not true."

"It is."

A brief silence.

A single second where I thought—maybe—she’d stay. Maybe she’d say something else.

For a moment, I could’ve sworn her expression softened.

But all she did was look away and adjust her bag. That’s when I noticed—she still had the My Melody keychain I had given her.

"It’s late. I’m leaving."

A weight settled in my chest as I watched her go.

The door shut behind her, leaving nothing but the echo of her presence.

the realization (wc ; 3240)

SYNOPSIS: Y/n and Riki were inseparable. The kind of friendship everyone envied, the kind that felt unbreakable. But somewhere along the way, something shattered. Now, every word they exchange is a fight, every glance a silent war. Neither of them wants to admit how much it hurts. Neither of them wants to be the first to let go of the anger. But how long can you hate someone who once meant everything to you? Because the line between love and hate has never been thinner.

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[strang3lov3]

Out of Town

“And touch your nipples for me. Give them my love,” he instructs, and his phone makes static noises as you reach for your breasts. “‘Cause I really fuckin’ miss your tits, you know that?”

“I really miss you too,” you sigh softly, teasing your own nipples. Roman’s heart pounds at the comment. He’s certain you didn’t mean to say that, but you’re so addled you didn’t realize your little slip. He tucks your words away, saves them for later. 

Tags - Stepdaddy!Roman, uggghhhh this is a big one. okay. phone/facetime sex, masturbation (m & f), allusions to alcoholism, angst, blow jobs, cunnilingus, shower sex, unprotected freak nasty floor sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, daddy kink. 7k words. A/N - hey guys. thank you so, so much for your patience. i know it's been two fucking months since i last updated stepdaddy but uh....life moves pretty quick when it's got you by the balls and you've felt like you're being hunted for sport every day since january 1st pretty much. so yeah, thanks ♡ i hope this delivers. i know you missed daddy romey. he missed you too.

This hotel room feels lonely. Cold, too. Roman’s in his boxer briefs, his skin and hair damp from his shower, as he paces on the stiff, neatly patterned carpet. Everything about this luxury suite reminds him of how much he misses you. The king sized bed that’s meant to be slept in by two, the bathtub with two seats, two sets of jets. The shower with two shower heads. You should be here. He could’ve taken you with him on this business trip, taken you out on proper dates like real people do.

He’s thinking about that hug you gave him when he left early in the morning about a week ago. You were all sleepy but insisted upon waking up early to see him go. Roman hugged you tightly, savoring the way you just…melted in his arms. “What, are you gonna miss me or something?” he’d murmured softly in your ear. 

“Something,” you replied. 

He’s been texting you this whole time. You’ve been texting him. Playing iMessage games during those boring-ass meetings, competing to see who would beat New York Times’ daily Wordle and Connections puzzles first. Roman texts you a picture of a little green lizard on the back of his hand, and you text him a picture of a goose and a bird-shit covered sidewalk you see while out and about. He laughs.

Fuck, Roman misses you. He really fucking does. He picks up his phone and unlocks it, then opens the phone app. His thumb hovers over your name as he contemplates calling you. Do people like…do people do this still? Just call to catch up? Probably, right? But it’s also probably weird if he does it. Then again, he’s your stepdad and he cares about you and whatever, and he’s calling you.  

You pick up on the first ring. 

“Roman?” 

You sound a little out of breath, maybe? Roman wonders what that’s about “Uh, h-hey, you,” Roman says, pinching the bridge of his nose when his voice cracks. “Hi.”

“Hi.” And annoyed, too.

A silence hangs for a second longer than what’s comfortable. Roman’s not really sure what to say, and neither are you. He clears his throat. “I uh - I had groceries delivered to the house,” he says. “Did you get those? The fuckin’...snacks and whatever.”

And whatever. He added a couple bottles of nail polish to the order. You’re already wearing the colors he picked out, wiggling your toes to watch the pretty color shift. He knows you like your sparkles. 

“Yeah, I got those,” you answer flatly while examining your self-done manicure, shifting in bed. “The nail polish you chose is fucking ugly.” 

“Uh huh,” Roman laughs quietly, picturing you right now.

…But do you actually hate the colors, or are you just - you know. Being you? He wonders, but tries not to think too hard about it. Roman changes the subject then.  “You warm enough over there? Know how to change the thermostat?”

“Yep.” 

“Sleeping alright?”

“Yep.” He doesn’t believe this. 

“And your mom, is she…” Roman trails off, wincing at the sound of you sighing deeply through his receiver. 

“She’s been at Erica’s the past few days.” 

Roman nods. That figures. “Okay. What about food, huh? What have you been eating for breakfast? Did you see I got you some of those-”

“Cereal,” you snap, cutting him off. You hold up your hand closer to your face and frown at the chips in your manicure, and the weird indents in the paint. You should’ve waited until they were dry. “This nail polish is already chipping.”

“Yeah, that tracks. You fuckin’ sound like you’ve been eating just cereal.” Roman stops pacing. “I need you to be eating real shit, okay? Real fucking food. Don’t be a dick and eat just fucking butter noodles.” 

Roman can hear you scoff on the other end of the phone. He can picture it perfectly: the way you’re probably glaring, your lips pressed together in a thin line, the twitch of your jaw as it clenches. He’s patient with you, but to a point. It’s been a long fucking week, and he’s reached that point. He doesn’t know what he expected when he called you but he knows he didn’t expect whatever this is.

“Just fuck off, Roman.” 

Roman goes quiet, taken aback. You’ve told him to fuck off a million times, but usually with sarcasm lacing your tone. Or at the least, when Roman deserves to be told to fuck off. But tonight, what’s he doing to you that’s so deserving of your contempt? “Yeah? Fuck off, huh?” Roman switches the hand he holds his phone with. “What’s your fucking deal? I’m just trying to talk to you. Can I not talk to you anymore? Is that what this is?” 

The hurt in Roman’s voice has you feeling guilty immediately. You didn’t actually mean any of that, and you’re not truly mad at him. It’s just been complicated since he’s been gone. You miss him, you miss your routine with him, and you, well…

“Wait - I’m sorry,” you sigh. “Don’t go.” 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll fuck right off, alright? Wish granted. Goodb–”

“Don’t go,” you repeat. “It - it’s not you, Roman, I’m sorry for being like that. I just…” Roman sits down on the edge of his neatly made bed and bounces on the mattress as he waits for you to continue. “It’s nothing, just forget it. It’s…yeah. Nothing. You can…yeah - fuck off, I guess,” you tell him quietly, “I’m really sorry.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “Hold on. What’s nothing?”

“Nothing,” you say tightly. You twirl your little purple vibrator between your fingers, thinking back to the first time Roman fucked you. You haven’t used your vibrator since that night, but you just might tonight. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“I smell bullshit. C’mon,” Roman says. “Fess the fuck up.” 

“No. You’re gonna make fun of me.” 

Roman’s ears perk up at that, a crooked smile curling up at the corner of his mouth. “Well, yeah, but I always make fun of you, dummy. So tell me anyway. I’m not - you know - fucking off until you do.” 

Roman waits patiently for you to summon the words, still bouncing a little on the hotel bed. Finally, you speak.  

“I haven’t been able to come since you left.”

Ohhh. There it is. Amused, Roman sits still, quirks an eyebrow and fully smiles. “Oh yeah?” he purrs, “Is that why you’re all pissed off?” You answer him with an affirmative hum. He scoots back on his mattress, reaching under his boxer briefs to palm himself. “Are you sure you’re doing it right?”

“Roman, come on.”

“Just asking. It’s just a simple, friendly, no-ulterior-motives-at-all question.”

His answer makes your heart pound a little harder. “I am positive I’m doing it right,” you answer, now smiling at the direction the conversation turned. 

“I dunno…I think,” Roman says, “That it sounds like you need Daddy’s help.” You adjust in bed, then spread your legs. You hold your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you reach for your clit beneath your panties, breath hitching in your throat. “Oh my god, are you doing it right now? You’re totally fucking yourself.”

“Mhm. Well, trying to,” you mumble. 

“You’re shameless. Stop it,” Roman demands, squeezing his cock as he works himself. “And touch your nipples for me, hm? Give them my love,” he instructs, and his phone makes static noises as you reach for your breasts. “‘Cause I really fuckin’ miss your tits, you know that?”

“I really miss you too,” you sigh softly, teasing your own nipples. Roman’s heart skips at the comment. He’s certain you didn’t mean to say that, but you’re so addled you didn’t realize your little slip. He tucks your words away, saves them for later. He’s already rolling them over in his mind, listening to them over again.

“Keep touching them,” he says. He pulls his cock from the confines of his underwear, now fully erect. He rubs the tip with his thumb and collects the small amount of precum there, then sucks his finger. “Mm. Had a long day,” he mumbles. “Another fuckin’ meeting. We had sandwiches catered for lunch. What’d you eat for lunch, sweetheart?”

“Forgot to eat lunch,” you sigh, licking your fingers before tracing them around your areolas. Your nipples pebble up under your own touch, and you hum at the gentle, tingling pleasure. 

“That’s a shame,” Roman says. “Only girls who remember to eat right get to cum. So you’re shit outta luck, then, huh?”

“No!” you giggle, squeezing the flesh of your breasts. “I’ll eat something real for dinner, I promise. Just…just…”

“Just what?”

You moan quietly, sliding your hand down your body. “Can I touch my clit, Daddy?” you whisper. 

“Ohhh, I suppose. Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” Roman replies. He brings his palm to his mouth and spits into it, then pumps his cock slowly. Part of him wants to make you torture yourself at his instruction, but Roman decides against it. He needs this as much as you do. 

You reach under your panties and slide your fingers down your slit, sighing at how much wetter you are now. And all it took was a little sweet talking from Roman. 

Roman leans over the side of the bed, grabbing something from his suitcase. He clutches it in one hand as he strokes himself with the other, holding his phone tightly between his ear and shoulder, the same as you. “Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Wait - what the fuck are we doing?”

“What?” you pant, “Rome–”

“We have FaceTime, for fuck’s sake,” Roman says, switching to that feature. Your screen changes then and it’s Roman’s gorgeous face splitting into a smile when he sees you. “There you are.” 

“Oh, hi,” you giggle. You set one of your pillows down at the edge of the bed, then place your phone against it so Roman can get a full view of you. You’re wiggling your fingers under your panties, you fucking tease. 

“Ooh, smart fucking cookie, that’s a good idea.” Roman does the same, then goes back to stroking his cock. He’s quieter than usual, not really focused on telling you exactly how to touch yourself. You thought that’s what you needed from him, but his presence is enough, even digitally. Roman watches you in his little screen, dipping your fingers at your slick hole before dragging them up again to circle your clit. “Better?” he pants.

“No,” you breathe. “Doesn’t feel as good when I have to do it myself.” 

Roman lets out a loud laugh, and god does he look fucking gorgeous like that. Legs spread, fucking his fist. Head thrown back against his pillow, wearing a smile as he moans freely. If you were with him - really with him - you’d see the pretty flush on his cheeks and chest. “You’re fucking spoiled.” 

You and Roman touch yourselves together until you’re cumming at the same time, thousands of miles apart. You slip your panties off and show Roman the way you’ve soaked them, and gasp when Roman shows you that he’s done the same - his favorite pair of your panties are stained in his own cum. “You stole my panties?” you laugh. “That’s what you were holding?”

“Mhm.”

The post orgasm haze feels good. You catch up with Roman and the conversation flows naturally, until it doesn’t. Poor connection on his end, then on yours. You should be snuggling right now. You can’t fucking wait until he’s home. 

“Hey,” Roman says, his face frozen on your screen. “I’m gonna switch to my iPad, okay? My phone’s too fuckin’ hot. God, I hate iPhones. Gonna call you right back.” 

Roman grabs his iPad from his suitcase and opens the black leather case, and it doesn’t ask him for a passcode. Odd. He barely uses the fucking thing anyway. It’s not until he accidentally taps the photos app instead of FaceTime that he realizes he brought your mom’s iPad, and not his. They have the same case, anyway.

The photo library is all full of pictures from your mom’s phone. Selfies, pictures of her manicures she paid for with Roman’s credit card, weird and blurry photos she’s accidentally taken. He chuckles. There’s all sorts of pictures of her and Erica out and about together, at bars and concerts that he doesn't even realize she attended - not that he gives a shit. There’s a video in her and Roman’s shared bedroom - Roman opens this, and his eyebrows raise when he presses play. Your mom and Erica are naked and drinking from a champagne bottle, kissing and dancing and fucking. His jaw drops, and he lets out a scoff. He’s not…not mad, really. He cares fuck all about your mom and whether or not she’s faithful - it’s not like he is, anyway. Roman simply files this away, then calls you back. 

Your heart pounds when you get a call from your mom’s iCloud email address, and answer it cautiously. Relief is not strong enough of a word to describe how it feels to see Roman’s face instead of hers. “Oh, thank god. You grabbed Mom’s iPad, I’m guessing?” You’re no longer in your bedroom, instead in the kitchen. You stick a popsicle in your mouth, then head back to your room. 

“Mhm. Hot, by the way,” Roman says, smiling when you make a show of sucking on the treat, moving your tongue in all sorts of lewd manners while cherry-flavored juice drips down your chin. When you’re back in your room, Roman clears his throat and scratches the back of his head. He’s quiet again.  

“Rome? Everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Roman lies, going back to the video. You watch him on your screen, his eyes narrowed and not looking at your image, pressing his lips together as he thinks. “Uhh…kinda weird - weird question,” he begins. 

“Uh huh…?”

“Your mom and Erica…?”

“They’re totally fucking.” 

Roman raises an eyebrow. “You knew?”

You pull the popsicle from your mouth with a quiet pop. “It’s obvious, Roman.” 

“Okay. Well,” he says, “Take a wild guess at what I just found.” 

Roman tells you about the sex tape and giggles at all the disgusted noises and faces you make, begging him not to describe it any further. “What do we even like - do we do anything?” 

“I mean, do you give a shit? I don’t give a shit,” Roman says, running his hand through his hair. It’s all floppy now that it’s dry and there’s no styling cream in it. You love it like that.

“I guess I don’t either, as long as she keeps whatever fucking comments to herself. God. Whatever. More power to her,” you say. 

“I’m watching it again,” Roman says. “You totally have the same ass.” 

You giggle and groan, “Oh my god, shut the fuck up. Shut up,” you tell him, and Roman does. It’ll be another one of your shared inside jokes or something. 

After a few more minutes, you yawn. Roman yawns too. “Hey, wait a sec,” he says. “Did you ever eat dinner?” 

“Oh, you know. I had that popsicle,” you mumble all sleepy. 

“You said to me that you’d eat a real dinner,” he says. “Not a fucking popsicle.” 

You smirk, laying on your side, eyes gently closing. “I’m gonna have a good breakfast,” you tell him. 

“Uh huh. You better. I wanna see fuckin’ protein and fruit and all of that shit on your plate. You promise me.” 

“Okay, okay. I promise.” 

There’s a soft, electronic hum from the silence as you begin to drift off to sleep, your bedroom lights still on. With Roman’s phone is now cooled, and he uses an app to turn those fancy, overpriced lights off, then turns the lights off in his own hotel room. He puts the iPad on the pillow next to the one he rests his head on, chuckling as you snore a little. 

One more week. 

-

Like a dog, you wait by your window for Roman to come home. When his driver pulls up to the curb, you sprint down the stairs and past the kitchen where your mom and Erica hang out together, nearly tripping as you rush to greet him in the doorway. You almost tackle him when you wrap him in the tightest hug you can muster, kissing his neck as many times as you can sneak in, running your hands down his back and arms. “Okay,” he laughs, toeing off his shoes, unbalanced as you restrict his movement. “Yeah, it’s me. Daddy’s home or whatever. You gonna fuckin’ cream your pants?”

“Yes,” you answer, burying your face in his neck. He smells different, like laundry detergent he doesn’t usually use to wash his clothes with. You can’t decide if you like it or not.

“Give me a fucking second, Jesus Christ. I’m here. I’m not leaving ag–” You shut him up with a kiss that startles you both, so brazen in such an open space. “Watch it,” he warns, and your eyes widen. Roman kisses you again, pinches your ass, and swallows your squeal of delight as he smiles against your lips. 

You follow Roman into the kitchen where he helps himself to a snack, quickly picking off of some fucking expensive-ass charcuterie board your mom had ordered. He idly wonders how much that set him back. Whatever.

“Roman’s home!” your mom slurs, swaying in the barstool in front of the kitchen island. Erica’s next to her, smiling politely. Already, there’s something tense in the air.

“Uh…hi,” he says quietly, confused. Roman can’t remember the last fucking time your mom said hi to him. 

They’re listening to some old, obnoxious music on a Bose bluetooth speaker Roman had given your mother for her birthday some years ago. Erica’s nursing a glass of wine, your mom’s on her second glass of vodka and Gatorade, which isn’t smart. For an alcoholic, she’s a lightweight. 

“You miss us, Roman?”

Roman reaches for a clementine and begins peeling it. “Uh huh, yep. Sure did. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know. However it goes.” He splits the clementine down the middle and mindlessly hands you a half, something he’s always done. You watch your mom look Roman up and down, her eyes glossy and narrowed at him. He raises his eyebrows at her while biting into a cracker. “Everything okay?”

“He’s fucking handsome, isn’t he?” she drawls, sliding out of her seat. Roman makes a face at the comment. So does Erica. “Think he fucked someone while he was gone?” 

Zero to fucking one hundred. But that’s how it goes with her though, right? Erica seems weirded out, oddly enough. She laughs awkwardly and says your mother’s name, her half-hearted attempt at reeling her in. You’d think she’d be used to this, and maybe tolerates it. “Oh, c’mon. Be honest. You think he’s gonna trade me in for the younger model?”

You don’t say anything. Roman doesn’t say anything. Not even Erica speaks. Everyone seems to just know protocol, to let her get her belligerence out of her system. It’s like dealing with a toddler. If you don't entertain them, they lose interest and move onto the Next Big Thing. 

It still stings to be around, and it makes your heart pound so hard you can feel it in your stomach. She’s not a happy woman when she’s sober, but she’s worse when she’s drunk. Picking fights that nobody wins, but does it matter? She craves the fight, and she’s looking for it right now. It’s odd that Roman of all people is her target tonight, and not you. Not that Roman fucking cares. What’s she gonna do to him, anyway? You look at him nervously, and he looks back at you quickly, sympathetically. He says nothing, and yet you know what he’s telling you. No, she doesn’t know shit. And she wouldn’t give a fuck even if she did. She’s not even gonna remember this in the morning. 

It’s that touchy sort of moment during her inebriation in which you know things could go so, so fucking wrong, but if the three of you all play your cards right, it’ll pass.

Your mom rounds the island and kisses Roman on the cheek, all fucking sloppy and just…gross. He scrunches his face a little at the scent of vodka on her breath, and that cloying, awful perfume she wears. A $600 price tag doesn’t make it a good fragrance. He likes your expired Bath & Body Works sprays better. 

He gently avoids her attempt at a hug. “Oh, you know - you’re fucking sweet, uh….But I’m fuckin’ - I’m gross. You don’t wanna hug me.” Roman squirms away from her touch. “You know what, I’m gonna shower and then I’ll be back, alright?”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Roman lies, then turns to you. “And you,” he says, “Are gonna help me with my fuckin’ bags. It’s about time you did some hard work for once in your life, huh? Fuckin’ spoiled-ass brat. C’mon.” Roman pats your back awkwardly, then wraps his arm around your back and ushers you toward the doorway. We’re fucking out of here.

“Oh, please. You can do it yourself, Rome,” your mom says. “Be a fucking man. We’re having a girls’ night.” 

Roman doesn’t argue, knowing it’s a lost cause. he takes his hand off your body, looking defeated. You smile sympathetically at him, lips pressed together tightly. You tried, Roman. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. He sighs before he spins on his heel and walks toward the staircase, anxiously scratching at the back of his head. Fuck. 

Your mom waves Roman off with a dismissive flick of her wrist and a middle finger to match, already focusing her attention back to you and Erica. “Girl’s night,” she repeats, taking her place back at the kitchen island. You laugh, as if that was even a thing - this is a move of hers. Sort of…forcing a situation, social interaction from others. Trying to make herself seem friendlier or more liked than she actually is. You think it’s her loneliness or her control issues, or maybe a combination of the two. She pours more vodka in her glass. “Quit being so fucking weird and sit down, huh? Sit with your mom, for once. You owe me that.”

Your throat tightens as you pull out a stool, and then Erica speaks. “Oh, fuck,” she says. You furrow your brows in confusion when you see she’s looking at you. “I need–”

“What do you need?” your mom slurs.

“My medication. Forgot to take it with dinner,” Erica mumbles, looking around the kitchen. “Where’d I put my purse?”

Your mom looks confused but helps Erica look anyway, stumbling through the kitchen and dining room. Erica says your name, gives you another look. It’s an intentional, lingering stare. Her eyes are wide as she motions toward the room’s doorway. “Help me find it, please?”

“Yeah,” your mom adds, her tone demanding. “Go fucking help her.” 

The perfect out. You never much cared for Erica, and found her to be an enabler of your mom’s drinking and other bad habits, but you’re thankful for her at this moment. You’re curious about what she sees in your mom, why she sticks around…whatever. Not your fucking monkeys, not your fucking circus. 

You head up the stairs to “look” for Erica’s conveniently missing purse, and make a beeline for Roman in his and your mother’s shared bathroom. You’re thrown off by your mom tonight, but this is her, right? It could’ve been worse. And anyway, you don’t even want to think about it right now. You just want to be with Roman. 

So after successfully sneaking away, you tiptoe into your mother’s bedroom, taking quiet, careful steps toward that ensuite bathroom where you can hear Roman showering, like he said he would. The light glows yellow from in between the cracks of the door and the doorframe, a bit of steam pouring out. You open the door quietly, then close it again, conscious to click that little lock into place. 

Roman showers in silence. While you undress, you let yourself watch him. You admire his blurred figure through the glass, those exquisite lines of his body, the perfect cut of his waist and his beautiful ass. He scrubs his hair, then shakes his head a little as he rinses the suds out.

He jumps and yelps when you open the shower door, letting yourself in. “Jesus Christ! Did you forget how to knock, or what?”

“The former.”

The look on his face immediately turns into a smile, his sharp little canines on display. He looks just like a dream, water and delicate soap cascading down his soft and toned body, hair slicked back, eyelashes wet. He’s so relieved to see you, to know you’re away from her, and safe with him. Hopefully you ate enough. He’s not letting you downstairs again tonight.

“Oh, sure. Just let yourself in, yeah. I’m not like, showering or anything. Can’t get five minutes to myself, can I? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Please shut the fuck up,” you whisper through a smile. “I don’t understand why you never stop talking.” 

You quiet Roman with a soft kiss, holding the sides of his face as water falls over you both. He matches your kiss, his arms wrapping around your torso. One hand on your back, the other squeezing your ass. You kiss his jaw next, down the lovely column of his neck, his collarbones…

“H-hey.” Roman pulls away from you, searching your face with worried eyes, and holds your cheeks in his hands. “Was everything okay? Are you okay? Was she - did she, like…I tried to - you know. But I didn’t think–”

“I’m okay, it was okay,” you promise. Roman seems to want to know details. “But I don’t wanna talk about it,” you tell him. “Maybe later.”

“Okay. Maybe later.” 

You go back to kissing Roman, sinking into the heat of it, into him. His lips are warm, slick, parting just enough for you to breathe him in. His hands bracket your jaw, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. 

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, so slow and deliberate. The taste of him spreads over your tongue—clean, warm. Him. His mouth moves against yours, teasing and coaxing, until you sigh against him, melting under his touch.

Roman hums, low and satisfied, before licking into your mouth—lazily at first, like he’s savoring it. Then firmer, more insistent. The wet slide of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine, heat curling low in your stomach. His grip tightens, fingertips pressing into your skin, his body pressing into yours. You wriggle from his grasp a little, just enough to allow yourself the space to drop to your knees. 

Roman’s cock is already hard. You take him gently in your hand, kissing and licking at the underside of his tip. “Oh, fu - okay. Oh, wow,” he gasps, pushing the wet strands of your hair away from your face. “That’s how it is, huh? How we’re doing things?” 

“Mhm.”

“Someone really fuckin’ missed me, didn’t she? Did you miss Daddy when he was gone, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, and Roman lets out a laugh. He leans back a little, arms outstretched to adjust the shower head, making sure that water’s not spraying you in the eyes or something. He can be sweet like that, a gentleman. Roman groans loudly when you take his head in your mouth and suck him, then reaches for your face and gently holds you, stroking your skin. “Well fuck, whatever then. I missed you,” he admits, staring down at your beautiful, wide eyes. “Kinda.”

Beads of water roll down Roman’s gorgeous body as you take him further into your mouth. You hold the back of one of his thighs, sliding your hand up, up until you’re palming the tight flesh of his ass cheek, using your grip on his body for stability as you work him. You move the hand that’s on your face away, and hold it tightly. Roman gives you a tight squeeze in return. 

“Okay - okay, fuck. I’m not - it’s been a while, you know? I’m not gonna - fuck.”

You push your head forward, drooling on the entire length of his cock. You trace the underside of his shaft with your tongue, drawing sloppy lines as you bob back and forth, lazily fucking your mouth on his cock. 

Roman watches you in admiration, allowing himself to feel enveloped in the pleasure you create. Your eyes are shut as you swirl your tongue around his tip, but you look up at him as you slide down the rest of the way. What a fucking sight. Your mouth and your tongue are both so velvety and warm and wet, and Roman’s cock is beginning to twitch. “Hey–” he squeezes your hand rapidly. “I’m gonna cum, honey. S-stop,” he moans. 

His blunt, short fingernails dig into the skin of your hand as he tries to stave off his release, not wanting this moment to be over just yet. There’s still so much he wants to do with you, to you…fuck. But it’s happening - Roman’s breathing heavily as that feeling blooms deep in his stomach, and he lets out a loud, guttural groan as he cums into your mouth. 

It’s been so long since you’ve tasted that lovely, salty warmth of his. You let it coat your tongue and down your throat as he cums in thick spurts, and you don’t stop sucking until he pushes you away. You swallow every drop of spend Roman gives you before kissing and licking at his balls, running your hand down the elegant lines of his legs. 

Roman pulls you to your feet, panting heavily. You wipe a little soap off of his forehead with his hand still holding yours, then let him go. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” you mumble. 

You open the shower door and take one step onto the fancy bath mat, and are then pulled back into the shower with Roman, his hand gripping your forearm. “You fucking come back here,” he murmurs, tugging you close as he shuts off the water. “Where do you think you’re going, huh? You fucking heathen, dry off first. Jesus Christ.”

You giggle as Roman kisses you, then brushes past you to pull his towel off of the hook. He’s gentle as he dries you off from head to toe, then uses the damp, used towel to pat himself off. “C’mon.” Roman swats you on the ass as he ushers you out of the bathroom, rolling his eyes at your laughter and the giddy little steps you take. You pull him towards the bed, smiling so big. “Yeah, no fuckin’ way. Not that one,” Roman laughs. “It’s been sufficiently christened by your mom and her lover downstairs. I know because I’ve seen it.” 

You scrunch your face, hiding behind Roman as he carefully opens the bedroom door, looking both ways before sneaking into the hall. “You’re so fucking gross,” you tell him. He doesn’t reply beyond smirking and wiggling his brows.

He takes your hand as he rushes to your bedroom, the two of you naked and dripping water on the hardwood floor. Roman stubs his toe and hisses “Fuck!” stumbling into your bedroom and taking you down with him. The fall makes the room shake, and you laugh even harder when he slams the door shut harder and louder than he meant to. “Shut the fuck up,” he says, covering your mouth as he turns the lock. 

Roman keeps you right there on the floor, laying on your plush carpeting as he kneels above you. His smile falls then, replaced with something more serious. His eyes are sparkling and full of life, love as he stares down at you, taking in your body. It makes you feel shy, almost. Insecure. 

Roman lowers himself and kisses you softly, a hand on your neck with his thumb on your jaw. You moan against his lips, arching into his touch as you seek his warmth. His hand slides down your neck, down your sides and up again until he’s palming your breast, gently groping the flesh there. 

He bends and pushes your thighs up and back, his warm breath fanning over your hot, slick cunt. He spreads your lips wide, his eyes flickering from your throbbing, aching pussy up to your eyes, his mouth parted just a little. You swallow hard when Roman runs his thumb up your seam, and let out a shaky breath as he presses his lips against you. 

“I-” Roman says, “Missed you,” mumbling between kisses, nipping at the soft, delicate skin of your inner thighs, “So fucking much.” You’re dripping down yourself, gasping when Roman licks your mess. “Do you know that?” 

“I know. Told me a bunch,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He’s got his arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your body close to his mouth. Nose buried in that most special place. His damp hair is in his face a little, and you push it out of his way as best you can. Roman licks you from bottom to top, the muscles in his back twitching as he moves his head. “Oh, Roman.” 

He rounds your clit a couple of times before repeating that slow, long lick. There’s a quiet hum of the air conditioner and sweet, wet, breathy noises coming from Roman, but aside from that, the room is quiet. 

Roman pushes you onto your back ever so gently, allowing himself more space to eat you as he pleases. Fuck, he misses the way you taste. It’s something that he couldn’t describe with a gun to his head. So sweet, so musky, so…you. You’re his favorite fucking thing. 

He dips his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal, swirling it around. You reach for his face, tracing your finger along the bridge of his nose, up his forehead until you’re combing his hair and twirling the strands around.

Roman’s face is fucking soaked. He pulls back to wipe your slick onto your inner thighs, then kisses you a little. When he brings his mouth back to your cunt, his fingers join in. Two long, slender digits slide into you, and curl up against that lovely little spot deep inside you. Roman licks your clit and fucks you on his fingers, making you squirm and whine and writhe. “Shh,” he reminds you.

He eats you like you’re the first proper meal he’s had in days, and really, you are. It all builds quickly, blooming deep in your abdomen and rolls down your legs and up your spine. You cum so hard and Roman works you through it, licking and licking until you’re shivering and twitching and gushing into his hand, a light sheen of sweat covering your naked body. 

Roman pulls away from you, licks his palm clean of your arousal and then strokes his cock, fully erect again. He’s not fucking done with you. Not even close. Roman kneels over you and lowers his body, lining up with your entrance. He pushes just the tip in, then pulls out, drags his cock up and down your seam. He repeats the action with his forehead pressed against yours, his smile so wide as you beg for him to just fuck you. “Please,” you whimper. 

“Uh-huh,” Roman grunts, fucking into you in one quick, suave thrust that has you both moaning, catching your breath. You missed him like this. He missed you like this. Just lying here, your cunt wrapped around his cock and kissing his lips would be enough, you think. 

Until he pulls out of you - just a little, and pushes back inside. His cockhead kisses your cervix and brushes past your g-spot on the way there. You moan as he thrusts into you, so slow and deep and intentional. Roman keeps your mouth covered until he decides fuck it, he wants to hear you. Deserves to hear you. 

He loves the way you wrap yourself around his body, clinging so tightly to him. Legs crossed over his hips, one arm hugging his shoulders, scratching at the skin of his back. Your other hand cradles his head. The side of his face is pressed against yours and you make the sweetest, softest sounds together as he fucks you. No words spoken, just taking what you need from one another, savoring the moment. 

The pleasure is blinding for you both, and Roman makes you lean into it. He rubs your clit as he fucks you, bringing you to orgasm once, then twice. He has to hold his breath and bite his lip as you clench around him, trying so hard not to cum yet. He’s all sweaty and his chest and cheeks are flushed bright red. Roman looks almost pained as he tries to keep it together. 

“Roman,” you breathe, holding his face in your hands. “Cum for me.” 

“I know, I know. I don’t - not yet,” Roman pants, taking your hands off of his face. He pins them above your head, squeezing his fingers tightly. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“‘Cause I don’t - fuck. I don’t want this to be over yet, baby,” he admits quietly. You aww at him, smiling at his softness. “Yeah, shut up,” he mumbles, and kisses your forehead as he fucks you apart, breathing hot against your skin. “Just humor me, for fuck’s sake.” 

You roll your hips into his thrusts, coaxing along his release on your own. “Oh, you’re such a fucking–” Roman doesn’t finish the sentence. He grunts as he licks his fingertips, then reaches between your bodies so you can cum with him. When you feel that pleasure deep in your gut, so does Roman. The rapid pulsing of your cunt and the way you soak his cock has Roman making noises louder than he intends to, his orgasm washing over him in such a deliriously heady way. And you, you’re lost in it, riding the waves of your own pleasure as Roman pumps you full of warm, sticky cum, more than he usually does. It spills out of you a little when he pulls you close and flops onto his back, happily pinned beneath you. 

He kisses your neck and hugs you tighter against him when you pull away a little. “Don’t go,” he tells you. “What’s the fuckin’ rush, huh? Just stay with me. Pretend you like me,” Roman jokes softly, looking up at you and pushing some hair out of your face. He swallows thickly as he searches your eyes and rubs your cheekbone with his thumb, hoping you don’t really have to pretend. 

“But your back,” you argue, smiling kindly. “Probably shouldn’t lay on the floor.” 

Roman rolls his eyes. “Alright, fuck you. My back is fine, thanks. Not that fucking old.” He lets you go then, his body already missing the warmth and weight of yours. You offer him a hand as you stand up, but he swats it away and gets up on his own. He flops in your bed, watching as you leave to use the bathroom. He catches his reflection on the TV before he turns it on - hair wild, skin still flushed. 

When you return to him, Roman kisses you. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “You know that?” 

“I know,” you mumble. 

You lay with him as he picks out a show to stream - Always Sunny. He keeps the lights low, running his fingers up and down your back as you drip his cum onto his thigh. It’s a mess that he welcomes.

Uncomfortable, Roman shifts and reaches behind himself to pull something from under his head, one of your bras. “Oops,” you whisper, a little embarrassed. 

Roman folds the bra in half and aims for the laundry basket across your room. “If I make this, you owe me a kiss,” he says. 

“Deal.” 

He misses, tells you to fuck off when you laugh at him, and kisses you anyway. 

The volume on the TV is low, and it’s so quiet and comfortable being here with him. You stare at Roman, watching the screen reflected in his irises. “You have green eyes,” you whisper. 

Roman raises his eyebrows, then looks down at you. “Do I?”

“Mhm...mm-mm.” You change your mind, studying him closer. “No. Maybe? They’re like, hazel-y,” you say. “Well, and also green,” you add. 

Roman smiles, says nothing. You trace the features on his face, committing each one to memory. The freckles and the mole on his cheek that used to be more prominent when he was younger; you’ve seen the pictures. You picture those softer boyish features of his, considering how they’ve matured with his age. The stupid haircut he used to have. You yawn, dropping your hand. 

“You’ve been getting enough sleep lately?” Roman asks, his voice all soft and gentle.

The question throws you off a little. “Are you trying to say I look tired?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. M’just thinking about you.” 

It’s so profoundly tender and caring, it sort of makes you balk. A beat passes before you shake your head. “No. I don’t always sleep so well,” you answer.

“Yeah. I know.” 

Roman reaches for you, and pushes some hair out of the way. He scratches your scalp, then traces your ears with his fingertips. He’s never done that before. It feels good, and warm, somehow.  

“I felt kind of anxious when you were gone,” you admit, closing your eyes as you nuzzle into his neck. “Just didn’t feel good.”  

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

You shrug, then go quiet. There’s a scene on the TV Roman knows you always laugh at, and he imagines hearing you do so. “Ohh, god. I fuckin’ love you,” he laughs, face heating up when you don’t respond. And then, the quietest of snores. You’re even drooling onto his shoulder. “Oh.” 

You didn’t hear it, but at least Roman said it. He’s known for a while that he loves you, and he wonders if you love him too. Fuck, he hopes. He writes those three words on your arms, your back, your sides. He’ll tell you tomorrow. Make you your special blueberry pancakes, the whole thing. Figure out the next steps later. 

a reblog or an ask is always nice :) i missed you guys. it's been a tough time lately. nice and dirty thots would be kindly welcomed.

romey tags :)

@gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman @drunkdriverkillerwhale @fawnjaw @fadedviolets @flowercrowns-goodvibes @foursgurlx @hotdadlvr95

[itsaintmebabe]

attention, please

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ chapter two !

summary: y/n insists she’s done with vi, but vi can’t help but feel something’s off and is determined to break through y/n’s walls.

pairing: hockey player! vi x sports med trainer!fem! reader

notes: lowkey doing slowburn with them so hang in there lol

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ chapter three / series masterlist

Y/N huffed as she adjusted her grip on the water bottles, her arms burning from the strain. The plastic containers were heavier than they looked, and carrying so many at once wasn’t her best idea, but she was the only sports med trainer who had made it to the rink so far. She refused to make two trips, it wasn’t that far, and she could handle it.

Probably.

Just as she felt one bottle slipping, a voice called out. “Yo, you need help?”

She barely had time to register the voice before Vi made her way around the ice towards you, closing the distance between them in record time. Fully dressed in her hockey gear, skates giving her an extra three inches of height, Vi loomed over her with that cocky smirk Y/N used to find charming but now only irritated her.

“No, I’m good,” Y/N muttered, adjusting the bottles in her arms again and quickening her pace toward the bench.

Vi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Yeah, sure you are.”

Before Y/N could protest, Vi effortlessly plucked several bottles from her arms, holding them like they weighed nothing. Y/N inhaled sharply but said nothing. The help was appreciated, her arms were screaming in relief, but she refused to give Vi the satisfaction of a thank you.

They reached the bench, setting the bottles down. Vi stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders as she looked over at Y/N expectantly. “So… you gonna keep pretending I don’t exist, or what?”

Y/N didn’t even look at her as she started organizing the bottles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vi let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Right. Because you totally haven’t been avoiding me.”

Y/N finally glanced up, meeting Vi’s gaze head-on. “I’ve been doing my job, just like I always have.”

Vi studied her, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. Before she could say anything else, one of her teammates called her name, saving Y/N from whatever Vi was about to say. Without another word, Y/N turned back to her task, ignoring the way Vi hesitated before finally leaving.

—

Vi had always been confident, on and off the ice. She knew how to handle herself, her teammates, and any challenge thrown her way. But lately, she was struggling with something new, something she couldn’t quite name, and it all centered around Y/N.

She didn’t get it. One day, Y/N was just another face in the sports med department, someone she vaguely recognized because she’d wrapped her hands a few times. Then, suddenly, Y/N was ignoring her, and Vi found herself caring. Too much.

It started with little things. Y/N would be all smiles and warmth with her teammates, but the second Vi asked for something, all she got was short, clipped responses. There was no eye contact, no teasing remarks, no hint of the flustered girl she’d caught glimpses of before. And it bothered her.

Confused and frustrated, Vi found herself turning to Jayce.

“I think she hates me,” Vi muttered, leaning back on Jayce’s dorm couch and rubbing a hand down her face.

Jayce snorted, setting down his protein shake. “Who?”

“Y/N.”

Jayce raised a brow. “The same Y/N that works with Mel? The same Y/N who literally couldn’t stop talking about how hot you were?”

Vi sat up. “What?”

Jayce smirked. “Dude, she had a massive crush on you. Mel told me all about it. She used to think you were into her too, but then you, I don’t know, did something to piss her off?”

Vi blinked. She tried to think back, wondering what the hell she could’ve done. All she remembered was walking into the frat party, spilling her drink, and—

Shit. She’d ignored her, hadn’t she? She’d barely acknowledged her. Worse, she hadn’t even known her name.

“That can’t be it,” Vi muttered, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “That’s dumb.”

Jayce shook his head, amused. “Girls remember that kind of thing, Vi. She probably felt stupid for thinking you liked her.”

Vi leaned her head back, groaning. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to caring about what someone else thought of her like this. But every time Y/N avoided her gaze, every time she heard Y/N’s soft laugh aimed at someone else, Vi felt that unfamiliar tug in her chest.

Meanwhile, across campus, Y/N sat on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest as she groaned into her hands.

“Why is she suddenly everywhere?” she whined.

Mel, who was sitting at her desk, flipping through a textbook, snorted. “You’re the one who works with the hockey team.”

“Yeah, but she never talked to me before. Now she won’t stop.”

Mel smirked. “And you hate that?”

Y/N groaned louder. “I hate that it’s working.”

Mel turned in her chair, tilting her head. “Oh? So you do still like her.”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “No. No, I refuse. She’s annoying. She—”

Mel raised a brow. “She’s hot.”

Y/N covered her face. “I hate you.”

“No, you hate that she suddenly cares.”

Y/N flopped back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe.”

Mel grinned, but before she could respond, her phone buzzed. A text from Jayce.

Jayce: Hey, babe. I’m bringing Vi over. Movie night?

Mel smirked, looking over at Y/N. “So, funny thing…”

—

Vi had no idea what she was walking into when she followed Jayce into Mel’s apartment, plopping down on the couch as they flipped through Netflix. She barely registered the movie as it played, her mind too occupied with thoughts of Y/N. She wasn’t used to people shutting her out, especially not people who used to look at her like she hung the stars. It left her feeling... unsettled.

Mel and Jayce, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil, were curled up together on the couch, whispering and giggling, wrapped up in their own little world. Vi watched them, a strange sort of longing settling in her chest. She wasn’t the type to settle down, never had been, but for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to have someone look at her like that.

She was still deep in thought when a voice interrupted. “Mel, can you turn it down? I have an exam tomorrow.”

Vi sat up straighter, head snapping toward the voice.

Y/N stood in the doorway, dressed in an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, her expression annoyed but relaxed. She hadn’t even noticed Vi yet, her attention on Mel as she practically begged her to lower the volume.

The second Y/N’s gaze shifted and landed on Vi, she froze. Vi watched the way her lips parted slightly, a flicker of something, hesitation, shock, crossing her features.

Vi saw her chance. “Hey—”

“I’ll just put on headphones.”

Y/N spun on her heel, practically sprinting back into her room and shutting the door behind her.

Vi sat there, staring at the spot where Y/N had stood, stunned.

Behind her, Mel and Jayce exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

“She’s got you bad,” Mel teased.

Vi ignored her, eyes still lingering on the closed door, wondering why the hell she suddenly wanted Y/N’s attention so badly.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

been loving the jack abbott fics soooo much!!!

A request for a potential fic about Jack. I was thinking something along the lines of his wife is maybe in the Peds/Psych department and comes to consult in the ER sometimes. The newbies don't know her as Jack's wife, but just the kind peds/Psych doc and then something something they discover she's Jack's wife and they're all like "how did that happen?"

thank uuu!!! this is a good one!!

The Other Dr Abbott

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x Wife!Reader

“Vitals are stable but he’s swinging between psychosis and charm like a damn metronome,” Santos muttered, watching the patient over the rim of her coffee cup.

Jack Abbott stood by the trauma bed, expression unreadable, arms crossed, as their patient—a shirtless man in his 30s with wild eyes and blood still drying under his nails—grinned up at the fluorescent lights like they were divine.

Dr. Whitaker explained the patient's history to Dr. Abbott, “He assaulted a pedestrian, bit a paramedic, and started quoting Shakespeare to the defibrillator. I think we’re out of our depth here.”

“Page psych,” Jack said without looking up.

“Already did,” Santos replied. “They said Dr. Abbot’s on call.”

Javadi looked up sharply. “But he’s standing right here.”

Jack sighed. “No. The other Dr. Abbot.”

Santos blinked. “There’s... two?”

Whitaker’s brows furrowed. “Is she your sister or something?”

But before they could interrogate further, the doors swung open.

In walked her—the hospital’s most requested psychiatrist. Elegant. Kind. Intimidating in the quietest way possible. She had a pen behind her ear, a folder under one arm, and a calm confidence that silenced the room the moment she entered.

“Hi,” she said gently. “I heard you needed psych?”

The patient lit up. “Ohhhh. There she is. Finally. Someone beautiful around here.”

Jack’s jaw ticked. “Watch it.”

The patient smirked. “What? Just saying. You all bring me the mean doctor with the wavey hair, but then this goddess walks in? Tell me you see it. She's the moon and you’re... I dunno. A pencil.”

Javadi bit her lip. Santos turned away, grinning.

The psychiatrist pulled on gloves with practiced grace. “I’m here to help, Mr. Reed. Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“Like I’ve seen heaven,” he said smoothly. “And heaven is you. Are you single?”

Jack stepped forward. “She’s married.”

The patient cocked his head, eyes narrowing like he suddenly understood something far more interesting. “Wait a second... no way.”

“What?” Santos asked.

The patient pointed at Jack, then her. “You’re married. You two. I see it now. That stare. The way you hovered when I called her beautiful? You’re totally married.”

Silence.

Then:

“She’s your wife?” Whitaker all but gasped, looking at Jack like he’d just revealed he was an alien.

Jack didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

Santos’s mouth dropped open. “Hold on—how long has that been a thing?”

“Seven years,” she answered calmly, scribbling notes onto her chart.

Javadi stared. “You mean to tell me we’ve been working beside both of you this whole time and never knew?”

“We keep it professional,” she said, glancing at Jack, who was clearly trying to sink through the floor.

The patient beamed, delighted. “This is way better than when I saw a guy get tasered in the cafeteria.”

“Please sedate him,” Jack muttered.

His wife smirked. “Not yet. He’s lucid enough to spill tea.”

Santos laughed so hard she had to turn around. Whitaker looked like he was trying to solve an algebra problem with no numbers.

“But—but she’s so nice,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Jack said flatly. “And she married me anyway. Try not to think too hard about it.”

As she moved to the side of the bed, the patient winked at her. “I’m just saying... you could’ve done better.”

Jack leaned down, eyeing him coldly. “Say that again and I will intubate you awake.”

Everyone blinked.

The patient raised both hands. “Okay damn. The wave’s kinda hot now that I get the context.”

Javadi crossed her arms. “Well, now I get why he punched that radiologist last year for calling her sweetheart.”

Jack didn’t deny it.

[sexlapis]

ᝰ.ᐟ mama cat

✮ cecil stedman x gn!hero!reader

sfw. fluff. no pronouns. cats. mentions of animal abandonment. cecil being cecil.

⤷ you have a thing for strays.

wc: 1.3k

a/n: another cecil fic <33

masterlist

*

Cecil looks pissed.

If his quick, furious stride, the wrinkled frown on his face, his balled up fists and the fact that it looked like steam was coming out of his ears was anything to go by, then yes.

Cecil is angry.

For good reason, you suppose.

You did ignore him when he was speaking to you over the communicator and then proceeded to simply take it out of your ear to stop listening altogether. His voice gets annoying after a while.

But you had a good reason, too.

Just as you were about to take off after a solo mission well done, you spotted a cat. It was a small cat, white fur soaked and matted from the abusive rain. Its blue eyes blinked at you slowly.

“Awww.” You had said. “Hi there.”

You stalked closer to it, shrinking yourself and holding your hands out. You didn’t want to scare the poor thing.

It tilted its head at you. As soon as you came within a metre of it, the cat turned around and trotted away. Not scurry away in fear, or sprint away in fright.

It wanted you to follow it. So that’s what you did.

That’s how you found a litter of almost identical, newborn kittens in a flailing cardboard box, wet from the rain. The kittens whined loudly, cold and scared. The cat wants you to help her kittens.

Someone must have just left them here. You frowned at the thought.

How could someone do that to these innocent babies? They could’ve just given them to a shelter. Was that so hard to do?

Driven by righteous anger and a need to protect, you scoop up what you assume to be the mother cat, the cat who had led you here. Surprisingly, she allowed it.

Maybe it’s the hero in you that made you do it, but you couldn’t just leave something so defenceless and vulnerable to fend for itself.

“Come on.” You told the cat, as if it understood. “Let’s get you some help.”

Now, you’re standing in the reception of the GDA Hospital, drenched to the bone, holding a box full of felines with god knows how many infections, and an angry looking Cecil is storming in your direction.

Well, that’s nice.

“What did I tell you?” Cecil spits as soon as he gets close. His arms are crossed and you think if he keeps making that face it will be stuck like that forever. “Hm?”

“Uhm-“”

He doesn’t let you answer. “I said, ‘You do as I say’ and you listen.”

“No, I-“”

“What the fuck were you thinking? I thought something happened or that we lost contact. I need to know what’s happening so I can keep you safe. Is that a difficult concept for you to grasp?”

“Look-“”

“No, you look- What the hell is that?”

Cecil looks down at the box in your arms. A tiny ‘meow’ can be heard. He looks back at you and blinks.

“What. Is. That.”

You chuckle, nervous. You really can’t tell if he’s confused or still angry at you. You pull your cape hood down.

“I found them.” You shrug. “The mom-cat led me to the rest of the kittens. At least, I think she’s the mom.” You open the box, showing them to Cecil. “See? I think someone just left them there. So I bought them back here to get them looked at and stuff. Can you believe someone would do that? A whole bunch of newborn kittens just left on the side of the street. I should just find whoever did it and-“”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Cecil waved his hands, shaking his head. “This is what held you up? These…kittens?”

You sniffle. “Well…yes?”

Cecil sighs. He pinches his nose. “You don’t just go dark on me. You understand?”

“Yes.” You deflate, suddenly feeling a little guilty. Cecil always tried his best to keep his heroes safe and he was probably worried out of his mind. “Sorry.”

Cecil sighs again. You’ll be the death of him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” He huffs. “Just don’t do it again.”

He knows that if any other hero did what you just did, they would’ve gotten chewed out. A warning. Perhaps even a temporary suspension of duty if he was in a bad enough mood. But you…you barely even get a shrug of the shoulders.

Seriously, Cecil can’t stay mad at you for long. You’re so brave, throwing yourself into danger at the detriment of his beating heart yet he can’t help but admire you despite that. You seem to be the only hero who doesn’t glare at him in irritation or even hatred. How you look at him with twinkling eyes, full of energy and so eager to please, especially please him…

So sue him if he goes easy on you.

“Yes sir!” You salute.

Cecil winces. “Don’t do that.”

You grin at him. He looks away.

A hospital employee just happens to walk by. You jump at them.

“Hey! Excuse me!” The doctor pauses. She looks very confused. “Can you help these kittens? I found them when I was on a mission. They were in the rain, I think they might have hypothermia or something…” You look over to Cecil. “Don’t you guys have a vet in here or something?”

“This is a hospital for people.”

“You have a McDonalds.”

“No, no, the Pentagon has a McDonalds.”

“Well it wouldn’t hurt to have a vet. We have animal heroes too.”

Cecil pauses. “… I guess that’s true. Maybe those tax dollars can go to something useful…”

The confused doctor looks between you and Cecil. She then looks over to Cecil for confirmation. Cecil closes his eyes and nods, exasperated.

The doctor cautiously takes the box of kittens from your hands. “…I’ll see what I can do.”

*

Later that night, you sit with the cat and her kittens. They had their own hospital room and everything. You were right - she was the mother of those kittens. She was barely an adult herself.

Mama cat was spayed, chipped and vaccinated along with all of her babies.

You smile as she purrs under your strokes. She is so adorable. Saving these cats is the most rewarding thing you’ve done all week.

The door to the room slides open - it’s Cecil.

“Still here?”

You nod. “I didn’t want to leave them alone.”

He huffs. “There’s like, seven of them. I don’t think they’re lonely.”

“It’s hard being a single mom. Maybe mama cat needs help.”

Cecil hums. He watches as you look over at all of the kittens, trying to give them an equal amount of attention.

It’s strange. You can cause so much damage, do so much destruction and yet here you are - doing baby voice to some abandoned kittens.

“Can we keep them?” You ask.

“Who?”

You tilt your head. “What do you mean ‘who’? Us.”

Us? You and him? Cecil likes the sound of that more than he wants to admit.

“Have you forgotten what my job is? I can't exactly go around chasing after cats. Also, their piss stinks.”

“You’re the US government. Think of something! Get a pet sitter. Make a pet room. Just for these cats.”

“I-“”

“Pleaaase? You gave Shapesmith a racecar bed.”

“Shapesmith is a martian child in an adult's body.”

“Exactly! So you like to help children.” You gesture to the kittens. “Help these kittens, Cecil.”

“Look-“”

“Please?”

Those damn eyes again. So endearing.

It’s really hard to say no to you. And Cecil is so easy.

“…Alright. I…I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yay!”

He points his finger at you. “No guarantees.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head. “No guarantees.”

Cecil wonders why he continues to do this job - to question his morals and character at every turn, to wonder if he’s the “good guy” in all of this, to be barely tolerated and downright despised by those around him.

Maybe this is why.

To help abandoned kittens and see the soft smile spread across your face.

*

[gremloblin]

Thinking about how the frog guy that Lottie killed was the first active murder in the group. Jackie and Laura Lee and Crystal were accidents, Javi was too even if they could’ve helped him they didn’t actively kill him. Even Ben was a mercy kill, he wanted Natalie to kill him, he actively begged her to to do and was relieved when she did. In ep6, when Taissa is chosen to kill Ben she tells Van it’s not the same as killing an animal, but I think I’m the back of her mind she’s thinking about what happened to Javi. Javi was the closest they’ve come to murder until Ben, Tai was there, and like the rest she didn’t step in to help him, but shooting Ben while he’s tied up is very different, which is why she wants to distance herself from it.

Honestly idk if anyone told Lottie the precise nature of Javi’s death. Obviously she was told that it was supposed to be Nat, and the wilderness chose, that’s why she crowned Nat, but I’m not sure if she got the context of how accidental it was and how no one stepped in. I imagine she was told that Javi fell through the ice, but I think she equates it with an active murder, bc if you’re not looking through the guilt-justifying lens that the other girls are, it is murder. Lottie is horrified when Misty tells her what they’ve done. Maybe in Lottie’s eyes, it doesn’t really matter whether Javi fell through the ice or took a bullet meant for Nat; either way the wilderness chose, and either way it’s murder. I think in Lottie’s eyes, it’s as deliberate as facing someone and shooting them point blank. But, then, it doesn’t really matter who pulls the trigger bc it’s the will of the wilderness, whether stillbirth or drowning or freezing or getting an axe to the skull, it’s the will of the wilderness. When Misty killed Nat in the adult timeline she was aiming for Lisa, but now Nat is dead and the blood is on her hands and Lottie says the wilderness is pleased.

I say this bc if Lottie chose to believe that Javi’s death was ACTIVE murder, something the other girls seem to avoid facing, then it’s not so far a bridge to kill Edgar. The group murdered Javi, Nat murdered Ben, is it such an unbelievable stretch for Lottie to murder Edgar? This is what they are now. Aside from her justifications of WHY she had to do it, this group is accustomed to death and killing and she thinks they know that(they don’t) because she’s been facing what they’ve done head on: Lottie hasn’t had a vision since Shauna beat her up. She no longer has the blanket of active psychosis to shield her from what they’ve done. She is the one who would’ve objected, and did object to that first hunt, too late. Lottie KNOWS they’ve become monsters, that society cannot and will not understand them and thus they cannot return to it, she’s left her visions behind and sees clearly that they’ve been changed irrevocably. They watched a young boy die and ate his corpse, they tortured a man and ate him, they are past the point of no return. Lottie is the one who sees clearly what has happened to them now that the visions have left her, while the others justify and compartmentalize and avoid what they’ve done, she sees it. That’s what she picks Shauna, bc Shauna is the only other person who will face what they’ve become, and in fact will embrace it. The outsiders have to die. Shauna’s the leader now. Winter approaches. There’s no going back, there’s only violence.

[occasional-rambler]

I’m halfway through the atom eve special and as a chemistry undergrad, the molecules she built with her babysitter are absolutely DESTROYING me. Why couldn’t they at least have consulted a high school or undergrad chemistry student? MAGNESIUM IS NOT A FUCKING MOLECULE and I could’ve told them that when I was 16 😭😭. That benzene looked pretty questionable too (where were the hydrogens??). I know science fiction isn’t going to be consistent with science (because it wouldn’t be fiction anymore) but at least get the known elements and compounds right.

aside from that, eve’s powers raise so many questions for me, like what that pink stuff she makes her constructs out of is. Like did she create a novel compound? Wouldn’t it have been easier to make them out of something that already exists like diamond? That’s what I would’ve done but then again I’m not as smart as Eve. I like to think she uses it just because it’s pink and she loves pink (love to see her absolutely owning that. you can be smart and badass and love pink!!)

Off the top of my head I’m realising now that eve could’ve made so much money speeding up industrial synthesis processes or working in the clean energy industry. Girl could make rare earths and molecules with challenging synthesis routes in seconds. Lowkey didn’t need invincible inc to make money.

She has so much potential and I really hope we get to see Eve without her nerfs in the future.

[lightlycareless]

whenever this audio comes up on my fyp i always think of naomi and naoya 🥹

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTFX51PoD/

Hiii!! How are you? It's always so good to see you 🙈🙈🙈 I hope you've been doing well 💖 and thank you for waiting for my response 🥺

I'm so sad that the video doesn't appear anymore. Or at least it doesn't for me, but I still (vaguely) remember the context of it and it's essentially a father walking their daughter down the aisle, a reflection of when them kids are not kids anymore!! Or so I believe that was.

Either way, this was very bittersweet for me to ponder about🥺 every time Naomi is brought up she's still that baby you and Naoya spoil whenever possible, so to imagine her all grown up, leaving the nest... maybe even settling down and having kids????😭 why??????

Warnings: fluff, honestly. domestic type. you and naoya reflect on them years together.

Happy reading!

It’s inevitable.

No matter how much you or Naoya try to deny it, Naomi will eventually become an adult and have her own life.

But the two, in your heart, she’ll always be your baby.

Even when she becomes a sorcerer, amongst the best of her generation, all you could think of is the sweet way in which she’d run to you, eagerly stretching out her short, chubby arms to gift you whatever drawing she’d done that evening: usually you and her holding hands while surrounded by many hearts, showcasing a sample of her infinite love for you.

“Mama! Mama! Look what I made for you!”

“Oh, pumpkin, is that us?”

“Yes, mama. It’s us that day in the garden, remember? When you told me flowers bloomed!”

“Ah, yes! And then papa took us out to the city, right?” you remember fondly, because how could you forget? Such moments are what makes living far more enjoyable. Love for your family even sweeter. “Did you show papa too?”

“No, because I gave him his own. I also made another one with the three of us! But that’s only mine…”

Your heart tightens, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks.

“Oh, Naomi, why do you have to be so cute?!” you cry, quickly wrapping your arms around her and lifting her up to pepper kisses all over her face which she happily accepts.

But of course, you couldn’t do that now. Your baby was now in her teens, spending most of her time away at school or on missions, leaving the two with a dreadful sense of loneliness.

A reflection of how much time has passed.

“Our oldest is set to graduate this summer.” You quietly reflect over breakfast. “Her siblings will soon follow, and then… it’s just going to be us again.”

“Why must you torment us this way, Y/N? Do you seek excitement through pain?” Naoya, your husband, jests.

“I suppose so.” You respond, not in the mood to play along. He frowns. “I just can’t help but… see Naomi and think of how small she looked in my arms. But now, she’s just a footstep away from being an adult.

…

Do you ever stop and wonder, when time go by?”

“In almost 20 years of marriage, I suppose that by living the best time of my life.” He says, giving you a smile he hopes will ease your burdened heart; it does, just not completely. “What torments you, my love?”

“…Nothing important, I guess.” You murmur. “This happens to everyone.”

“No, it is important if it has you like this.” He persists, taking ahold of your hand and making you sigh.

“I just wish they could’ve stayed little for a bit longer.” You confess. “But at the same time, I’m ecstatic to see what they will become. It’s complicated, isn’t it?”

“Well, we still have our Naohime to dote on.” Naoya reminds, kissing your chuckles. “So, we’ll still have a kid to chase around the estate one more time.”

And for someone as spoiled, yet adorable as Naohime was slowly growing to be, that task was quite the handful.

You laugh.

“I guess we do.” You then rest your head against hist shoulder, sighing. “20 years…”

“19, to be precise. Next year is going to be 20.”

“Next year? Oh, we have to make something special to celebrate!” you breathe, looking up to him. “It’s not every day that we achieve that milestone.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he’s already planned something for such occasion, for quite some time too. Doesn’t want to spoil your endearing reaction he’s sure you’re bound to have.

But he supposes he could indulge you in a second ceremony, it’s only fitting for 2 decades of being together.

And the many more to come.

“We can plan a small holiday, just the two of us. And another one with your children.” Naoya suggests. “Just like old times.”

“When we were still young, and oh, so in love?”

“Were?” He smirks. “I still am.”

You blush, shyly batting your eyes before leaning into his warmth yet again.

“How do you still manage to fluster me, even after all this time?”

Naoya shrugs before leaning into you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, where you could hear his quickening heart… a notion that makes you smile sweetly.

Because after all these years, he too hasn’t changed much.

Whenever he’s close to you, his heart still skips a beat.

Ngl I think I kind of messed up the timelines there, but still managed to keep it reasonable. I really need to set down a timeframe for all of these shenanigans... or not, it'll allow me to be more flexible hehe.

Also, I cut out anything related to Naomi getting married and having kids even though the video pointed to that. Why? Because I don't want to think of our baby leaving 😭😭😭 but really because I hadnt given much thought to their adult lives. However, Naomi strikes me as someone that wouldn't care too much for that, perhaps because she's the heir after Naoya so she worries about the clan first, and then her personal life.

I fear this is when she begins to understand why her father was absent throughout some parts of her life, she still is... conflicted about it, but is slightly more empathetic.

AND of course, if we're being real, Naoya is too overprotective of all his kids. You're slightly more lenient, but no one is worthy of being their partner :) might even scare them... so there's that hahaha.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending me this sweet prompt 🥺!!!!!! Now I have an even bigger desire to write domestic fluff 😭😭😭😭😭 thankfully, there's more to come hehe.

Now, take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

[maybe-im-dark]

Names

The fire crackled in the middle of the clearing, casting flickering light over the two brothers seated on opposite logs. Logan nursed a bottle of something strong, eyes on the flames. Victor was silent, hands clasped between his knees, blue eyes reflecting firelight.

For once, there was no blood between them. Just smoke. And silence.

Logan broke it first.

"You ever think about him?" he asked.

Not accusatory, not bitter. Just tired.

Victor didn’t look at him. "Who?"

Logan shot him a look. "Don’t play dumb. You know who."

Victor’s jaw tensed, his claws flexing for a moment before retracting again. "Not much to think about."

"Yeah?" Logan took a swig. "’Cause I can’t stop sometimes. Not about what he said. But the way he looked at me when the claws came out. Like I was a monster."

Victor gave a dry chuckle. "You weren't the monster, Jimmy. I was."

That silence returned. Heavier, tighter.

"You didn’t keep his name," Logan muttered. "After he—after that night. You could’ve kept it. But you didn’t."

Victor finally looked at him. His voice was low, rough. "Didn’t want to carry his stink with me. Creed wasn’t much better, but at least it wasn’t his."

"You think I wanted it?" Logan’s voice cracked with something fierce. "I ran with it ’cause I didn’t know who else to be."

"You chose it," Victor growled. "You wear it like armor. Logan. James. Whatever. But you never let go."

"And you did?"

Victor stood slowly, pacing toward the fire. "I tried." He looked up at the stars above. "But sometimes...sometimes I hear him. In the way I talk. The way I get angry. The way I..." He trailed off, snarling softly. "No matter how far I run, he’s right there in the mirror."

Logan looked up at him. "You ain't him."

Victor turned, eyes sharp. "Aren’t I? Look at me, Jimmy. Look at what I’ve done."

Logan stood too, stepping into the firelight with him. "I’ve seen what you are. And yeah, sometimes it’s ugly. But I also saw you protect me when we were kids. When we had nothin’ but each other."

Victor’s expression cracked—just for a moment.

"You don’t carry his name," Logan said softly. "But neither do I, not really. We made our own. Outta blood and bad choices."

Victor exhaled slowly. "That what we are now? Just choices?"

"More than he ever was," Logan said. "More than he deserved."

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Victor sat back down, letting the silence return, but it was different this time—less heavy. Less bitter.

"Still think Creed sounds better than Logan," he muttered.

Logan smirked. "Not if you're tryin' to impress someone."

Victor growled low in his throat, but it was almost a laugh.

They stayed there till the fire burned low—two sons of the same bastard, finally talking about the weight of a name neither of them chose.

[doodler16]

i genuinely hope the thing about viv ruining adult animation’s reputation at a24 isn’t true. i’m writing my own adult animated show that i wanted to pitch to a24 when it’s ready because it takes inspiration from some of the stuff they’ve put out before, and if vivziepop managed to ruin that i genuinely think i might cry. obviously there are other studios i have in mind, but a24 was like The Main One.

i saw a post once that said “vivziepop doesn’t like people who aren’t nepo babies trying to become famous even tho she did just that” (or smth along those lines) and i couldn’t agree more. viv wants hollywood to be a bunch of nepo babies Plus Herself (to feel special). we’ve seen this from the way she treated the original hazbin voice actors and replaced them with broadway stars the second she got the chance. the way she treats other indie creators when she sees herself as more successful than them. i hope to god i don’t fall under her radar before my show can get made, because she HATES seeing anyone try to “one-up” her (even when that’s not what anyone is trying to do).

i truly wish someone who’s good at writing (and good at being a decent person) had utilized her cool art style and story concepts so they could’ve done something better with it. sigh

Hopefully it isn’t true but at same time a previous anon not too long ago mentioned that their friend pitched their cartoon to a24 and they felt skeptical because of Hazbin.

Either way, good luck anon. Feel free to update us if anything big happens with a24.

[runningincircl3s]

Sinematic

Vinny Mauro x Reader

Chapter 6

chapter warnings: none...?

okay i know i'm a day early with posting, but i won't be able to post tomorrow because i'm going to see tokio hotel with my best friend!! so i would've had to post it later or earlier lmao ALSO i didn't realise how short this chapter actually was until i came to edit it so sorry about that... i'll make up for it in the next one :)

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The morning of Vinny’s flight, you pulled up outside his house, sending him a text to let him know you were there. A moment later, he stepped outside, dragging his suitcase behind him, a backpack slung over one shoulder. His hair was tousled and still slightly damp, and he looked even more tired than usual. 

“Did you get much sleep last night?” You asked as he tossed his bag in the backseat.

“Guess.” He shot you a smirk before sliding into the passenger seat. “Between last minute packing and convincing myself I was forgetting something, I maybe got… two hours?”

Shaking your head, you pulled away from the curb. 

The drive to the airport was comfortable, the two of you never running out of things to talk about. You realised ten minutes into the drive that Rick could’ve taken Vin this morning, like he usually does, but instead he had asked you. You smiled to yourself, and before you knew it, you were almost there. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” He asked again as you pulled up at the departures terminal.

“For the hundredth time, Vinny, no! It’s no problem.” You rolled your eyes. “Any there any plants that need watering?”

“There’s not.”

“Shocking.” You deadpanned, making him chuckle.

You watched him hesitate for a second, drumming his fingers against his knee. 

“If it’s not too much to ask… maybe you could even stay over a couple nights? Just so it’s not sitting empty.”

You glanced at him, surprised, before nodding. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Vinny exhaled, nodding as he unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“Thanks. Really.” He smiled. 

“Not a problem!” 

For a moment, he just looked at you, his lips parting like he wanted to say more. But instead, he just smiled, reaching for the door handle. 

“I’ll see you next week.”

You watched him disappear into the airport, turning back to wave at you before you finally drove away, shaking off the weird feeling in your chest. Finally, the two of you were on good terms and now he’s gone. 

It was just for a week, though. No big deal.

Day One

You got to Vin’s house late that morning, using his spare key to unlock. You brought in the mail, setting the letters down in the kitchen before noticing how he had left everything. He did apologise and warn you that he was in such a rush yesterday that the house was left in a bit of a mess. His shoes kicked off by the door, a few dishes stacked by the sink, a hoodie draped over the couch. It just made the house feel even emptier. 

You wandered through the rooms, tossing his hoodie and a few shirts into his laundry basket, making a note to get that done later, washing up the dishes, fluffing the pillows on the couch. Anything to distract yourself from how weird this felt, being in his home without him. 

It was too quiet. 

So, you turned the TV on. After doing a few chores, you decided to sit around for a bit before heading back home, letting Vin know you had been over. 

Day Two

You pulled up to Vin’s house, letting out a heavy sigh. You felt like you could finally breathe. 

You have had a day from hell. 

You had a wedding morning to shoot for today, the bride was so sweet and patient, but her maid of honour was clearly a perfectionist, and no matter what you were doing, it seemed she knew best. 

When that was finally over, you stopped by Vin’s local coffee shop, deciding to get yourself a treat after your long day. You bought a muffin and an iced mocha, and as you got into the car, you must’ve misjudged how high up the driver's seat was. 

Because, before you knew it, you were covered in mocha. You gasped in shock, feeling it soak into your hoodie and jeans. The sticky, cold sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and for a second, you just sat there, staring down at the mess in stunned silence.

Then, with a frustrated sigh, you set the cup down and grabbed a handful of napkins from the glove compartment, attempting to blot the worst of it.

It was no use.

The damage was done.

Your hoodie was ruined, your jeans weren’t much better. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered under your breath.

Abandoning the clean up, you decided to just drive back to Vin’s and sort everything out there.

When you got there, you grabbed your things and made your way inside, kicking the door shut behind you.

You still couldn’t believe how weird it felt at Vin’s without him. The house was too silent, especially after the chaos from today. But you just took a deep breath, kicking your shoes off by the door and walking straight to the washing machine. 

You stripped off your hoodie and shirt, tossing them straight into the washer before shimmying out of your jeans. You debated just staying in your underwear while they washed, but the idea of sitting around that vulnerable in Vinny’s house felt weird.

Instead, you dug through the dryer, pulling out the first thing you could find, a pair of black shirts and a sweater. As you pulled it from the dryer, your mind instantly went back to the night you first met him, when he had handed you this same sweater to sleep in. 

“I’ve never heard of this band before.” You say as you look in the mirror at yourself wearing his dead grandma sweater. 

“Oh, uh,” his face flushed red, he was embarrassed to tell you the truth but he hoped you would forget by the time you were sober, “It’s actually not a band… it’s the name of my WoW guild.” 

You wondered if he remembered too. 

The shorts were loose, hanging low on your hips, as you pulled the sweater over your head. You chuckled to yourself as you looked down at what you were wearing, you almost looked like Vin.

That thought made you pause.

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair. You were tired, it had been such a long day. 

Once the laundry was going, you made your way into the kitchen, grabbing the muffin you’d thankfully saved from the coffee catastrophe before sitting on the couch. 

The house was too quiet, it almost felt like you shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t like you expected Vinny to be here, he was literally on tour, but it still felt off.

Like you were waiting for him to burst in, complaining about the flight and throwing himself onto the couch.

You let out a slow breath, pulling your phone from your pocket.

Maybe you should call him.

Or maybe you should wait.

He was probably about to go on stage anyway.

You shook your head, putting your phone down and turning the TV on, Vin had said you were allowed to use his netflix, so you put on a show which you knew you wouldn’t even be watching, your eyes already feeling heavy. 

Maybe you should stay over tonight?

You had packed an overnight bag to keep in your car just in case. It wasn’t much, just some essentials: a toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, deodorant, pyjamas and clean underwear.

With a small sigh, you forced yourself up, heading back outside to grab your bag from the car. The evening air was cooler now, the sky shifting into dusky shades of purple and blue. You shivered slightly, before you stepped back inside.

Back in the living room, you grabbed the blanket from the end of the couch and settled in, throwing it over yourself. The warmth was comforting, and for a while, you just lay there, half-watching the screen, letting yourself sink into the cushions.

But after a few minutes, you started shifting uncomfortably.

The couch sucked. You wondered how you slept on it last time, it had barely been ten minutes and your back was already hurting, and no amount of repositioning seemed to help.

You huffed, rolling onto your side.

Vinny had told you he put clean sheets on his bed before he left...

And he did say you were welcome to sleep there if you ever stayed over...

You chewed your lip, debating for a moment before finally giving in.

Grabbing your bag, you switched off the TV and made your way upstairs, the stairs creaking beneath your feet. 

You quickly went into the bathroom, getting changed, washing your face, brushing your teeth, sniffing the candle in the window…

The second you stepped into Vinny’s room, you were hit with the faint, familiar scent of him and the smell of clean laundry. 

Your chest tightened slightly. You were missing him already. 

You hesitated in the doorway, staring at his bed before finally sighing and crossing the room.

Pulling back the covers, you slipped in, the sheets cool against your skin. The bed was so much more comfortable than the couch, and as soon as your head hit the pillow, you felt your body begin to relax.

For a while you just lied there, staring up at the ceiling. Despite how tired you felt, your mind just wouldn’t shut off. 

You sighed, turning onto your side, staring at the soft glow of your phone screen on the nightstand.

It was only 10pm.

Vinny was probably still awake.

Maybe you should text him. Just to check in, to let him know you’re staying. Just to-

Your phone suddenly buzzed, vibrating softly against the wooden surface.

You jumped slightly before quickly grabbing it, your heart skipping when you saw Vinny’s name flashing across the screen.

It was like he knew.

You hesitated for only a second before answering.

"Hello?"

"You sound tired." His voice was soft, a little raspy.

"You sound exhausted." You shot back, rolling onto your back again.

Vinny let out a quiet chuckle. 

"It’s almost 4am here. I am exhausted."

"Then why are you calling me?"

He paused.

"Couldn’t sleep." He sighed.

Your chest ached at the honesty in his voice.

"You should try," you murmured, tugging the blanket higher. "You’ve got another long day tomorrow."

"Yeah… I know, that's why I'm so glad we're in a hotel tonight." He sighed. "Where are you right now?"

You hesitated, glancing around the dimly lit room before quietly admitting, 

"Your bed."

Vinny was silent for a moment, and then you heard the smile in his voice when he said, 

"The mattress is good, huh?"

"Yeah it is." You chuckled.

Another pause. Then, his voice was a little softer. 

"So you’re staying tonight?"

"Yeah. Hope that’s okay."

"It’s more than okay." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

It made your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

“After the day I had, I just wanted to sleep once I got here.”

“You had a rough one?” Vinny asked, his voice soft but laced with concern.

You let out a long sigh, settling deeper into his bed. 

“Yeah. Had a wedding shoot this morning- the bride was sweet, but her maid of honour was a total nightmare, I was almost going to just hand her my camera and leave. She had opinions on everything I did.”

“Bet you loved that.” Vinny chuckled. 

“Oh, so much,” you said dryly. “Then, to top it off, I stopped for coffee afterwards, y'know, a little treat for surviving the day, and spilled most of it over myself before I even got out of the parking lot.”

“No way,” he laughed. “That’s brutal.”

“Yep. So I spent the first twenty minutes here throwing my clothes in your washer and stealing your clothes from the dryer.”

“You stole from me?” He gasped dramatically.

You rolled your eyes. 

“Well, you told me to make myself at home.”

“I did.” He admitted, a smile in his voice.

You turned onto your side, setting your phone on your pillow and facing where his voice was coming from, as if he were lying there beside you. Silence settled between you for a moment, but it felt comfortable.

Then, softly, Vinny asked

“Are you comfy in there?”

You hesitated before exhaling. 

“Yeah, I like it. I don’t know how I slept on the couch last time I was here, I was laying there for like five minutes and my back was already hurting.”

“Knew you wouldn’t last on there,” he teased. “My bed’s got like the perfect balance of firm and soft. I never want to leave.”

“It really does.” You let out a quiet laugh. 

Another pause. Then, a little more tentative, he asked,

“You gonna stay tomorrow night, too?”

Something in your chest fluttered. You hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, but you did like his bed. You didn't have anything to do tomorrow... and it wouldn’t hurt to stay two nights in a row, would it?

“…Maybe.”

You heard him chuckle softly, before he changed the conversation again. 

“So back to the coffee problem... Did you at least get another one after the tragedy in the parking lot?”

“No,” you yawned, “I gave up. Took it as a sign from the universe.”

“That’s so sad,” he murmured. “You deserved better.”

“I did, right?” You chuckled.

Vinny let out a soft laugh. 

“I know it wasn't my fault but how about I make it up to you when I get back? We’ll go to that coffee place you like.”

Your chest warmed at the thought.

Was this an excuse for a date?

“I'd like that.” You murmured, a smile creeping onto your lips. 

And then you yawned again. 

“You tired?”

“Hm… just a little.” You blinked sluggishly, stifling another yawn. 

“Get some sleep, then.” Vin chuckled. 

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the blanket.

“Will you, um…” You swallowed, suddenly feeling so small. “Will you stay on the phone?”

Vinny was quiet for half a second, just long enough to make your heart stumble.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Of course."

You smiled into his pillow, your body relaxing completely for the first time all day.

And as your eyes slipped shut, lulled by the steady sound of his breathing, you felt almost like you were back in a hotel room, sneaking around behind everyone’s backs, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat whilst you'd lay with your head on his chest.

You knew in this moment the two of you could never be just friends.

Somewhere in a hotel room in Europe...

It was late when Vinny had got back to his room, his cold, empty, quiet hotel room. He kicked his shoes off and straight away dug through his suitcase for a pair of boxers before heading to the shower. He'd take a shower and get some sleep before tomorrow, that was the plan.

He could feel the exhaustion creeping in as he stood beneath the water, his tired arms lifting to wash his hair before rinsing off and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He was still struggling to adapt to the 6 hour time difference, as he checked the time to see it was 2am, he was surprised. Sure, he was tired, but he wasn't expecting it to be that late, he had to get up in only a few hours.

He got into bed, attempting to get comfy, but it was no use. He was missing home already.

He tried going to sleep, but despite how tired he was, it just wasn't happening. He checked the time again, seeing it was almost 4am, meaning it must be almost 10 at home... Maybe he should text you?

You'd been on his mind ever since the airport- ever since the diner- ever since he met you. He assumed you must still be awake, maybe the sound of your voice would help him sleep? Maybe that was all he needed?

Before he knew it, his phone was in his hand, and your name was on his screen.

"Hello?" You answered after only a couple rings, your exhaustion evident in your voice.

"You sound tired." He observed.

"You sound exhausted."

Vinny let out a quiet chuckle. 

"It’s almost 4am here. I am exhausted."

"Then why are you calling me?"

He paused.

"Couldn’t sleep." He finally said with a sigh, it wasn't a lie but it was easier than saying I miss you.

"You should try," you said. "You’ve got another long day tomorrow."

"Yeah… I know, that's why I'm so glad we're in a hotel tonight." He sighed. "Where are you right now?"

There was a brief hesitation before you answered

"Your bed."

Vinny stilled.

He felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching slightly in his throat. For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling, processing your words.

His bed.

You were in his bed.

Sure, he had told you that you could have his bed if you stayed, but now he knew you were actually there, he was picturing it in his mind...

He swallowed, wetting his lips before he finally found his voice.

“…The mattress is good, huh?”

He tried to sound teasing, light hearted, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away.

"Yeah it is." You chuckled.

Another pause. Then, his voice was a little softer. 

"So you’re staying tonight?"

"Yeah. Hope that’s okay."

"It’s more than okay." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

There was a soft shuffling sound on your end, like you were settling deeper into his bed, and the thought of you curled up in his sheets made something warm bloom in his chest.

“After the day I had, I just wanted to sleep once I got here.”

He frowned slightly

“You had a rough one?” Vinny asked, his voice soft but laced with concern.

You let out a long sigh, the kind that made him wish he were there so he could do something, or anything, to make it better.

“Yeah. Had a wedding shoot this morning- the bride was sweet, but her maid of honour was a total nightmare, I was almost going to just hand her my camera and leave. She had opinions on everything I did.”

“Bet you loved that.” Vinny let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Oh, so much,” you said dryly. “Then, to top it off, I stopped for coffee afterwards, y'know, a little treat for surviving the day, and spilled most of it over myself before I even got out of the parking lot.”

“No way,” he laughed. “That’s brutal.”

“Yep. So I spent the first twenty minutes here throwing my clothes in your washer and stealing your clothes from the dryer.”

“You stole from me?” He gasped dramatically.

“Well, you told me to make myself at home.”

“I did.” He admitted, a smile in his voice.

There was a brief pause, then before he could stop himself, he asked,

“Are you comfy in there?”

He didn’t know why he cared. He shouldn’t care. But the idea of you tangled up in his blankets, resting your head against his pillows, made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to unpack right now.

“Yeah, I like it. I don’t know how I slept on the couch last time I was here, I was laying there for like five minutes and my back was already hurting.”

“Knew you wouldn’t last on there,” he teased. “My bed’s got like the perfect balance of firm and soft. I never want to leave.”

“It really does.” You let out a quiet laugh. 

Another pause. Then, Vin ask a little softer this time

“You gonna stay tomorrow night, too?”

“…Maybe.”

That shouldn’t have made his heart skip the way it did. But it did.

He cleared his throat, shaking the feeling away, what else could he talk about..

“So back to the coffee problem... Did you at least get another one after the tragedy in the parking lot?”

“No,” you yawned, “I gave up. Took it as a sign from the universe.”

“That’s so sad,” he murmured. “You deserved better.”

“I did, right?” You chuckled.

Vinny smiled, then, a thought creeping into his mind before he could stop it.

“I know it wasn't my fault but how about I make it up to you when I get back? We’ll go to that coffee place you like.”

Silence. Then, softly...

“I'd like that.” You said, your voice a little above a whisper. 

And then you yawned again. 

“You tired?”

“Hm… just a little.” You blinked sluggishly, stifling another yawn. 

“Get some sleep, then.” Vin chuckled. 

A quiet beat. Then, barely above a whisper

“Will you, um… Will you stay on the phone?”

Vinny stilled. His throat went tight.

Your voice sounded small. Like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to ask.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Of course."

You must've gone out like a light after that, because Vinny continued to speak, yet there was no answer. Soon, he could hear the gentle sound of your breathing, what he had once fell asleep to almost every night, something that was once so comforting.

He set his phone down on the nightstand, whispering a soft goodnight, before letting his eyes shut again, and this time he finally drifted off.

-------------------------------

@collapsedglasshouses @miss570 @dominuslunae @sunshine-lvrr @death-ofpeace-ofmind @blade-dressed-in-red @amelia-acero @kait16xo @oobleoob @pipidoll @justdamnpeachy

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

Why in 2024 is d*sney still obsessed with stitch AND why are they still shipping him with his cousin

[smilesrobotlover]

Is this trend dead. Ah well. I wanted to do this with Zane and Linebeck lol.

Original:

[johnny-but-emo]

someone’s here to see you

[dykedvonte]

Reading MW takes on Twitter is like reading a summary of the Bible from someone who only watched like a Family Guy family special about it

[deci-doodles]

Feel free to ignore if you weren’t here in 2019-early 2021

Revisiting some old designs now that I’m finally actually able to look at my old stuff/anything related to CH again (weird how it’s been four years since I left, honestly doesn’t feel that long, but then again I also quit after I graduated high school and am technically done with a bachelor’s degree already so…)

No this does not mean I have any intention of rejoining the fandom, it’s more like me trying to deal with the amount of emotions/memories I had to uncover and unpack recently (spoilers: it’s a lot)